Chapter 25

 

The floor fans were cranked up high tilt at the Hooker-Handy Funeral Home, but the main memorial service room was still plenty hot and miserable. To make matters worse, the place was packed. It seemed that Fogerty was out in full force. I was sure the size of the crowd had more to do with macabre curiosity than Abbott’s popularity. No matter, it pleased Evelyn and the boys and even me a little to see such a fine turn out.

Agee and Alonzo wore cheap dark suits and sunglasses. They would have looked like the Blues Brothers had it not been for their cowboy boots and Garth Brooks cowboy hats. They were both heavily doused in some repulsive cheap cologne which only added to my misery since they were seated on either side of me.

I hadn’t packed funeral clothes, so I’d borrowed a dark pantsuit from Evelyn which fit me like a very bad dream. Evelyn was wearing what could have been a snappy but sober black pup tent minus the mosquito netting.

“There’s the mayor,” Alonzo whispered in my ear.

I guess I was supposed to be impressed.

Scotty Mink had been Fogerty’s mayor for about 200 years. It wasn’t that he was that great, it was just that Forgertians were big on continuity. Everyone knew that Scotty wasn’t always as honest as choir boy. It was common knowledge that he’d a hand in a few shady deals over the years and he’d been caught a time or two in a motel room with an underage girl of questionable repute, but hey, wasn’t this true of every successful politician?

Scotty Mink had the Dick Clark gene. No matter the decade, he always looked the same. In fact, Scotty Mink even looked a little like Dick Clark, except Scotty’s hair was higher, greasier, and, in the right light, could’ve been mistaken for the Big Rock Candy Mountain.

Like always, Scotty wore a mindless, eternal grin like the Frisch’s Big Boy. His wispy wife Glenda, who did not have the Dick Clark gene, hung on Scotty’s arm as he nodded at folks and shook a few hands as they made their way to seats near the front.

 

Although Evelyn hadn’t actually attended church any time recently, she’d always considered herself to be a good Baptist. She’d asked Brother Bobby Lee, the pastor of Fogerty Baptist, to MC the event.

Brother Bobby Lee looked about eighteen. He still had pimples and that eager beaver zealot look about him. No doubt he was a recent Bible college graduate. There were only about 100 such institutions within spitting distance of Fogerty. But for all his scholarly preparation and divine enthusiasm, it was obvious that Brother Bobby Lee was not yet steeped in this sort of thing. Throughout the service, he sniffed nervously and his voice quivered as he attempted to sum up Abbott’s assets and contributions. Blessedly, the list was short. Still, embarrassingly, he stumbled over simple words and sometimes left out whole phrases.

Finally, when he’d made it through the last Bible verse, he purposefully closed his oversized King James version and, on cue, Bonnie Lou Handy punched out a few chords on the organ. Brother Bobby Lee loudly cleared his throat, then proceeded to belt out one hell of a rendition of I Surrender All.

It was easy to see what had landed Bobby Lee in the cockpit at Fogerty Baptist. Baptists are suckers for singing preachers, and Brother Bobby Lee made Jimmy Swaggart sound like Art Garfunkel. When he’d finished, you’d have been hard pressed to find a dry eye in the place. Even I got teary, although it could have had something to do with the boys’ cologne.

Evelyn, who was seated on the other side of Agee, sobbed audibly. Agee put an arm around her. I could tell that Alonzo was having a very tough time, too, but he was keeping it together the best he could.

No matter how much of a creep my cousin Abbott had been in life, he was still his brothers’ brother, and they were going to miss him terribly.

 

I sat there with my arm around Alonzo’s shoulder and wondered what the chances were that Amy could be right, and if she was right and Rick Rod Delozier wasn’t the killer, then who was responsible for all of this grief?

And speaking of Deloziers, I’d kind of been expecting Amy to come to the funeral. We hadn’t actually discussed her attending, but I thought she’d show. Maybe Amy wasn’t up for the small town scrutiny, ugly glances and an emotional tar and feathering just for sharing Rick Rod’s gene pool. Who could blame her?

 

After the service Mayor Scotty Mink and Officer Mike were hanging around on the front porch of Hooker-Handy, shaking hands and soaking up praise from the townspeople for rounding up the killer. Officer Mike had apparently made the collar on Rick Rod. He’d gotten an anonymous phone tip at home, and moved on it pronto.

“Way to go, Mike,” Agee said, holding his hand out for a shake.

“Thanks, brother,” Officer Mike said, pumping Agee arm.

I reached out to take Mike’s hand, too, but Evelyn nearly dove in front of me and threw her arms around the officer. “I can’t thank you enough for catching the man responsible for doing those horrible things to my nephew, Abbott.”

Officer Mike gently peeled Evelyn off the front of his uniform. “Glad I could be of help.”

Mayor Scotty clapped Mike on the shoulder. “This is one heck of a cop all right. We’re mighty proud of you, son. You’ve shown us once again that the Fogerty police won’t let anyone get away with anything for long, unless, of course, you’re me.” He slapped Mike on the back and he and Mike laughed heartily. Then the mayor quickly sobered up and took my mother’s hand. “Evelyn, Abbott was a fine young man and a good citizen. We’ll all miss him.”

“Thank you for saying that, Scotty, even if it ain’t altogether true.”

I took this opportunity to shove my mother in the forward direction and I shook the mayor’s hand. “Yeah, thanks a lot,” I said, nearly pushing Evelyn down the steps.

He took my hand in both of his. His hands felt like sweaty socks. “You’re Cal Claypoole’s girl, aren’t ya?”

“That’s me.”

“You’ve grown up to be a beautiful woman. Cal would be so proud.”

Was he full of it, or what. “That’s nice of you say so.” Now please let go of my hand.

“Cal Claypoole was a great man. He helped make Fogerty the town it is today.”

Yeah, and he thought you were a snake in the grass.

“Well, I must let you get back to your family.”

“Nice to see you again,” I said, already halfway down the steps.

 

As I walked toward the parking lot, I noted Chief Cokie sort of slouched against her cruiser in the shade. Guess she’d sponged up all the glory she could handle for one day.

“There’s a luncheon at the church,” Evelyn called to me from across the lawn. “Shall we ride over in one car?”

“Why don’t you go on ahead with Alonzo and Agee.” As well-meaning as the folks at Fogerty Baptist no doubt were, I didn’t think I could face pickle loaf sandwiches and a tub of potato salad in a dank church basement. Besides, this looked like a golden opportunity to chit chat with Chief Cokie.

 

Police Chief Cokie was drinking a Mountain Dew and resting her guns there under a big maple.

“Nice service,” she said and took a swig.

“That Brother Bobby Lee is something else,” I said. That was no lie.

She nodded heartily. “Yeah, he’s my second cousin.”

“Wow.” What else could you say?

It was quiet for a few minutes. We watched the mayor and Officer Mike continue to work the crowd. A slight breeze kicked up and for a second it didn’t feel like 100 degrees. I was hoping that some bit of bonding was occurring between us, perhaps through osmosis.

Chief Cokie brought it up first. “That Delozier’s a real case, huh?”

“Sure looks that way.”

The chief eyed me like she didn’t like the sound of that. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, not everybody seems to be in agreement that Rick Rod Delozier’s the killer.”

“No?” She finished off her Mountain Dew, crunched the can and tossed it inside the police car. “Do tell.”

Knowing full well how stupid this was going to sound, I said it anyway. “For one, Rick Rod’s sister, Amy, doesn’t think he’s guilty.”

The police chief stared at me like I was a horsefly in her ointment. “Golly,” she said. “Guess I better run right down to the jail and let him loose.”

“Well, it is possible that someone set him up, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, right.” She belched softly.